


I'm lost but not alone

by Elisexyz



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Needs a Hug, Insecure Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Morning After, Post-Episode: s01e04 Of Banquets Bastards and Burials
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:47:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24560293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: “Comeon,” he says, lightly, poking at his chest for good measure. “I usually don’t leave my partners in such a sour mood after a round of sex, I might get offended.”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 148
Kudos: 597





	I'm lost but not alone

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this Tumblr prompt](https://heytheredeann.tumblr.com/post/620746370628878336/i-know-its-been-done-a-million-times-but-im-a), asking for a morning after fic featuring Geralt angsting because he has completely misread the situation, as you do. ~~Poor thing, he has issues.~~  
>  Title from [here](http://www.songlyrics.com/delaney-gibson/your-heart-is-my-home-lyrics/).

The temptation to leave first is strong.

Jaskier is still asleep, half his face buried in the pillow and his mouth slightly open, one arm outstretched in Geralt’s direction, resting on his chest. He knows that he could slip out of the bed, get dressed and make a run for it, without even leaving a note as an explanation.

Imagining the hurt and confusion on Jaskier’s face makes his stomach turn, but there’s something in him craving it, finding it much more preferable to having to force himself to take a step a back, going back to friendship like none of this ever happened.

Still, he _won’t_ leave.

It would be cruel and unfair: he knew what this was walking into, it is not Jaskier’s fault that he has apparently overestimated his own ability to be content with _just once_. They’ve scratched the itch, now everything will go back normal, Jaskier will seek his fun somewhere else as always, and perhaps someday he will find someone worth keeping for more than one night and — and it is not at all _fine_ , but it is how things are. Geralt has long since grown used to not caring about ‘fine’ and ‘not fine’, what matters is only what he can handle.

Jaskier stirs, blinking back into consciousness with a sharp inhale and low moan, stretching his back a little as he smiles at him. “’Morning,” he says, thickly, before rolling in his direction as he closes his eyes once again.

Geralt hums, not knowing himself what he means by it, part of him mourning his missed chance at an escape. He lays as still as he can manage, unable not to think of the passing time and how perhaps he shouldn’t have allowed himself this temporary comfort, not without being absolutely sure that he can handle the aftermath. He’s almost afraid that if he moves he will somehow shatter this little moment of calm before the storm, that Jaskier will realize that the time is up and —

“Are you cold?” Jaskier mutters, cracking one eye open, half-thrown over him like a blanket.

Geralt realizes belatedly that he is, in fact, trembling slightly. Fuck. “I’m fine.”

Jaskier completely ignores him. “C’me here,” he says, a smile still lingering on his face as he lazily tugs at him to — to what? Make him roll over, hide in his chest and let himself be held? Invite him to allow himself a bit more of indulgence so that he can miss it all even harder later?

Fuck it.

“I’m _fine_ ,” he repeats, more forcefully, this time shaking Jaskier’s arm off him, with every intention of getting out of that cursed bed and —

“Hey, _hey_.” Jaskier is suddenly a lot more awake, frowning and taking a solid hold of his arm, eyes searching for his. “What’s wrong?”

Geralt, because he’s stupid and he doesn’t want to shake him off again and he’s _warmed_ by his concern, eases back down without protest, though he turns away, to the ceiling, not wanting to face him. “Nothing,” he mutters, unconvincing to his own ears.

There’s a moment of silence, filled only by Jaskier’s increasing heartbeat and breathing, then he gives him a slight shove. “Come _on_ ,” he says, lightly, poking at his chest for good measure. “I usually don’t leave my partners in such a sour mood after a round of sex, I might get offended.”

The joke only reminds him of the fleeting nature of Jaskier’s relationships, of how uneven their footing is in this instance, of how _easy_ it will be for Jaskier to walk away from this — “If you wanted glowing praise you should have bedded someone else,” he snarls, and for a few moments it only feels good, with no guilt in sight, not when he can at least spit back at him a _fragment_ of the hurt that he is feeling.

He doesn’t want to think of what will happen the day that Jaskier, tired of travelling around with him and having already satisfied his curiosity when it comes to fucking a Witcher, will find no reason to stick around at all anymore.

Jaskier frowns, pushing himself up on his elbow. “That’s not nice,” he comments, not even sounding particularly offended. He just seems worried, which is worse.

(There comes the guilt. Wonderful.)

Geralt sighs. This is stupid. It’s not Jaskier’s fault. He walked into this with his eyes wide open, expecting nothing more than what he is going to get.

“Sorry,” he mutters, tiredly. “That was —”

“Harsh, uncalled for?” Jaskier completes for him. “Yeah, and it was also a very transparent attempt at diverting my attention from the actual subject of this conversation, which, just so you know, only made me more worried. So —” He pauses for a moment, his fingers touching Geralt’s arm lightly to get his attention. When Geralt meets his eyes, full of concern and piercing through his skull as if to study him, he wants to run once again. “What’s wrong?” Jaskier repeats, softly. “Did I — did I do something?”

“No.” The answer comes out of him in a rush, almost without consulting him. “No, it was — you were good. It was good.” Jaskier probably would have found a more flattering way to say that.

He takes it with a small smile, nodding. “Okay,” he says, squeezing his bicep. “What’s wrong then?”

Everything and nothing. This is not a problem that can exactly be fixed, not when Geralt has no right to ask _anything_ of him, let alone something as big as to stay. Jaskier already sticks around of his own volition, he has been for years, for whatever incomprehensible reason, to start asking to _have_ him on his own terms as well — that’s definitely too big a request, one that is not even worth voicing.

(One that he doesn’t _dare_ voicing, because rejection does not sting any less when expected.)

When it becomes clear that he isn’t going to say anything, Jaskier sighs.

“Geralt,” he reprimands, if gently. “I can’t read your mind, you need to _tell_ me what you are thinking, using actual words.” He shakes him a little, until he turns to face him once again. “Please?” he asks then. “Let me in?”

Ah, fuck.

That is a bad idea.

That is a recipient for _disaster_.

It is not a fixable problem, it is nothing that Jaskier needs to concern himself with, it is nothing that deserves to be _voiced_ — but Jaskier keeps staring at him with pleading eyes, a warm hand still squeezing his arm as if to say _I’m still here_ , and the question pushes to come out, rolls to the tip of Geralt’s tongue, and he almost asks it, almost fills the silence with a resigned: ‘Yes, but for how long?’.

He bites it back, fully ready to end the conversation, push back and put some healthy distance between them, because maybe that is just what he needs to deal with the _after_ , except — except he is _not_ fully ready.

He isn’t sure why he ends up saying it.

Maybe he just realized that he won’t be able to make himself run, and Jaskier’s eyes on him burn too much not to give in. Maybe he is even hoping to get _Jaskier_ to pull back, horrified enough by his request that he will do what Geralt can’t bring himself to.

“I want to do it again,” he says, between gritted teeth, the weight on his chest threatening to suffocate him.

Jaskier blinks at him, seemingly confused. “Okay?” he says, slowly. “Good? So do I?”

Geralt’s whole being comes to a halt, his previously throbbing heart shrinking, all of his muscles freezing as he can only stare, trying to understand if he heard him correctly and failing to believe the conclusion he comes to. “You — do?”

Jaskier doesn’t seem any less confused by his reaction, and he shifts uncomfortably. “I mean, yeah,” he says, with a nervous laugh. “Isn’t that how relationships usually work?”

“Relationship,” he echoes, not really managing anything else. His mind is drawing a blank at the moment, except for a deeply heartfelt _what the fuck_.

“Yeah, relationship, what did you think this — oh.” Understanding dawns on Jaskier’s face, closely followed by abject horror. “ _Oh_. Geralt, was — was this supposed to be a one-time thing? I didn’t mean for it to be, I — did I completely misread the situation?”

“I just —” Words don’t often come easy to him, but in this particular situation he finds himself facing even more difficulties than he thought possible. Between the foolish hope growing in his chest and the ever-present urge to _run_ , he’s staring to feel a little dizzy. “You usually have one-night affairs — I assumed —”

“That is the most appropriate and efficient solution when it comes to strangers who catch my eye and who fancy me in return!” Jaskier bursts out, like it’s _obvious_. “Those are people I will most likely never see again! My best friend of more than a decade does _not_ fit the description, and I wouldn’t dare risking what we have over a night of _sex_ — it was excellent sex, mind you, but _still_ — _seriously_?”

Geralt just stares, wondering why it is so baffling that he’d think that when it doesn’t make a lick of sense for him to be some kind of exception to the rule, but apparently that’s enough to communicate that _yes_ , seriously.

“Oh _gods_ ,” Jaskier mutters, rubbing both of his hands against his face. “Okay, let me just — just so we’re clear, you don’t want this to be a one-time thing, but somehow you thought that I’d just — that I’d get up today and then pretend like nothing ever happened, correct?”

Well. Yes.

At his nod, Jaskier’s eyes somehow manage to grow bigger. “Oh, sweet Melitele, Geralt, I —” He takes a breath, frustrated. “Okay, let me make it absolutely clear that I have been daydreaming about this for _years_ , so no, I have exactly _no_ intention of leaping into anybody else’s bed for the foreseeable future, and this is also not just about _sex_ , you oaf, you are my — my _absolute_ favourite person in the whole Continent, and for as long as you’ll have me I will be too happy to even _think_ about anyone else.”

Geralt blinks at him.

Jaskier talks a lot. Sometimes Geralt lets all the words wash over him, his mind somewhere else and the chattering turning into background noise. Other times he listens intently, even if he doesn’t contribute much to the conversation.

At the moment he finds himself somehow in the _middle_ : he listened, he _did_ , but nothing Jaskier said seems to have actually reached his brain.

That is, until a realization cuts through everything else.

“So you are —” he breathes out, so quiet it sounds horribly shy. “You are not leaving?”

Jaskier’s face crumbles, his sadness filling the room as he presses his lips together, shaking his head. “No, darling,” he says, softly, offering a small smile. “Never. _In fact_ , good luck chasing me away the day you tire of me.”

The first thing that Geralt wants to say to that is that it’s ridiculous and that Jaskier is annoying but he would never want him to _disappear_ if the choice were entirely up to him. The second thing that comes to mind is a joke about how he’s been tired of him since the first time they ever spoke.

Neither of those come out, because he’s still too busy trying to swallow Jaskier’s seemingly honest assertion that he wants _him_ , he is fine with _just_ him, he doesn’t want to leave.

“Geralt?”

He automatically looks up, meeting Jaskier’s eyes.

Jaskier opens his mouth as if to say something, only to apparently change his mind, shaking his head slightly before simply saying: “Come here, will you?”

The invitation is easier to accept than he would have anticipated: he just rolls over before he can overthink it, and Jaskier does the rest, pulling him to his chest and wrapping his arms tightly around him. Geralt’s face easily fits in the crook of his neck, the familiar scent prompting his shoulders to relax while Jaskier slides one leg between his, trying to get more comfortable.

Jaskier begins humming quietly, because that’s what he does when he doesn’t want to chatter but he still has to fill the silence _somehow_ , as anything else would just not be in his nature, and his fingers running through his hair slowly melt away all the leftover tension in Geralt’s body.

In that moment, his eyes drifting closed a few times and his fingers clinging to Jaskier’s shirt, it’s frighteningly easy to believe his promises.

“Better?” Jaskier eventually asks, softly, when the room is already illuminated by more sunlight than Geralt is usually comfortable seeing while he’s still in bed.

The fact that the late hour is not enough to make him consider getting out of his grasp probably explains more than his words ever could.

He hums affirmatively, which draws an amused snort out of Jaskier. “Good, I’m glad,” he says, fondly. He lays a kiss on the top of his head, making Geralt’s heart flutter in surprise, then he shifts as if to adjust their positions and draw him even closer. “You know, I could get used to this,” he announces, sounding delighted.

 _Yeah_ , Geralt thinks, brushing his nose against Jaskier’s neck. _That makes two of us_.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates comments, including: 
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> If you don’t want a reply, for any reason, feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!


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